


(tell the prisoner, tell the jailer) we will all be free

by queenofthestarrrs



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Coming Out, Jack-Centric, Kent Parson's Big Fat Happy Ending, M/M, Past Kent "Parse" Parson/Jack Zimmermann, Therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:46:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23619235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofthestarrrs/pseuds/queenofthestarrrs
Summary: “Today, I wanted to share something about myself, something that I have always known but have never talked about. After much personal reflection and many late-night discussions with those closest to me, I realized it is time for me - personally - to be my most authentic self. And that would be as an out and proud gay man.”
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann, Kent "Parse" Parson & Jack Zimmermann, Shitty Knight & Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 2
Kudos: 76





	(tell the prisoner, tell the jailer) we will all be free

Kent looked ill at ease.    
  
Jack was surprised that he was still able to tell. In the throes of the off-season, it had been months since he had seen Kent, and it had easily been over a year since he had actually spoken to him. And on top of that, Jack was sure that it had been multiple years since the two of them had actually had a meaningful conversation.    
  
Yet, there were clearly habits of Kent’s that had not changed since he was seventeen, and Jack could have recognized them anywhere. 

Without his helmet or his hat, Kent’s face looked particularly vulnerable. There was the ghost of tension lines gathered around the space between his eyebrows, the result of years of stress and scowling. It was clear to Jack that he slicked his hair back with some kind of gel. However, every few seconds Kent would rake through his hair, freeing the cowlick. Angered and scowling, Kent would rake his hair in an attempt to subdue it. A few seconds later, his hair again would creep upward. 

It was a pattern that Jack was familiar with. He could easily picture Kent, eight or nine years younger, doing that on the bus to weekend-long tournaments, before his GED exam, before the first time they talked about the fact that they had had sex. Jack viscerally winced at the last memory.   
  
“So,” Kent took a deep breath and exhaled through his teeth. His hair was still sticking up in the front. “I wanted to start off by thanking the amazing staff of the Las Vegas Aces who have been so incredibly supportive of me throughout my career, especially within the past few months. I also want to thank my teammates, both past and present, for their continued understanding and respect. It has been an honor to lead them, and it has been an honor to represent this team and this city.” 

Without intending to, Jack realized he was holding his breath. 

“Today, I wanted to share something about myself, something that I have always known but have never talked about. After much personal reflection and many late-night discussions with those closest to me, I realized it is time for me - personally - to be my most authentic self. And that would be as an out and proud gay man.”   
  
The room erupted into a loud burst of applause and chatter. Someone who Jack assumed was an Aces PR staff member leaped to his feet, partially in front of Kent. Behind him, Jack could still see most of Kent. His shoulders looked tense. He continued to run his left hand through his hair, and he greedily drank water out of a glass cup in his right hand. His eyes looked bright and shiny, a mixture of welling tears and the harsh studio lighting. 

  
“Please, one at a time everyone. We have more than enough time to answer everyone’s questions. However, we cannot continue until everyone quiets down. We can begin in a calm and orderly manner.” The PR staffer shouted over the din of the room. The room naturally quieted after a few minutes. The man then leaned over the table and whispered in Kent’s ear. Kent offered a few curt nods before clasping the staffer on his shoulder. He slowly wandered off-screen again. 

Kent laid his arms across the table and sunk down a little. His shoulders still looked tense.    
  
“Why now, Kent? Why not come out earlier?” A reporter from the crowd asked. Jack could recognize the sound of her voice. He admittedly didn’t remember her name, but he was almost positive that she was with ESPN. “What specifically about now made it feel like the right time?”   
  
Kent stretched his neck to the right a bit and let out a little laugh. “Come on, Leeann. I can’t be the first at everything. I have to leave some opportunities for the other guys in the league.” 

The joke didn’t land. The audience of reporters mostly stayed silent, earnestly waiting to hear the answer to the question.   
  
Kent laughed again. His habit of making a joke out of everything clearly didn’t seem to have faded with time. “Okay, Jesus, tough crowd. In all seriousness, the league, and the world at large, was a very different place when I was a rookie. Same-sex marriage was not legal in the United States. Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was still a national policy. The league was and, to an extent. still is a very dangerous place for individuals who are part of the LGBT community. When I first started, there were no openly gay professional athletes, any sport. Period.”   
  
Kent stopped to take a drink of water. As he swallowed, Jack watched as Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. The words were thick in Kent’s mouth. “Besides that, I was also just a kid. I was barely eighteen years old. I did not want to be a role model, and I am not ashamed to admit I did not have the skills necessary to do so. I just wanted to play good hockey and support my family. There was nothing wrong with that.”    
  
Kent took a deep breath and leaned back further in his chair. “But thankfully the world has changed. It is still changing. There are a variety of different athletes, and just people in general, from all aspects of the LGBT community who have bravely come forward to live exactly as who they are. This country is far from perfect, but it has made strides. And I changed too. I grew up, and I wanted to step up. If there is someone I can help or some kid’s life I can change just by being myself, proudly, I want to do that. I am grateful for the platform and support that playing hockey professionally has afforded me”   
  
Kent jetted himself forward in his chair, looking satisfied with himself. His shoulders had seemed to melt down, and his brow looked less furrowed. He lazily pointed at another reporter in the crowd.    
  
Off-camera, a reporter cleared his throat. “So, as you know, you are now the third out member of the NHL. You join the ranks of fellow players like Zakarias Tornquist of the Anaheim Ducks and Jack Zimmermann of the Providence Falconers. Zimmermann, of course, was a teammate of yours during your tenure in the Junior League. You both spoke at length about your friendship in the past. Now that you’re both out, will you comment more on the nature of your relationship with Zimmermann?”   
  
The PR man seemed to hover near the edge of the frame, ready to shut the question down, but Kent waved him off. Slowly, he returned back to his spot off-screen.

“No, I won’t. Actually, I will never comment on my relationship with Jack Zimmermann beyond saying that he was a good teammate and a better player.” Kent’s eyes narrowed, and Jack noticed as they flashed from hazel to a darker green. “You’re insinuating that two gay people cannot be friends without a romantic connection. Not only is it rude, but it’s also bigoted. Next question.”

Jack swiftly clicked the red ‘X’ on his browser and leaned back in his computer chair. As the site disappeared, Shitty’s face popped up in a continuation of their Skype call. His face and the top of his bare chest was flushed. An extra-large Dunkin Donuts iced coffee and a bowl of soggy cereal sat in front of him. Lardo drifted behind him, her back to the camera, at the kitchen sink. She looked like she was vigorously cleaning her painting supplies.   
  
Shitty picked up his coffee and aggressively sucked down half the contents of the cup. He punctuated the end of his sip with a loud pop as he pulled the straw out of his mouth. 

“Well,” Shitty plunked his cup down with uncharacteristic aggression. The ice rattled in the cup. “Fuck. Did you already know about this?” 

Jack shrugged. He accidentally banged his arms against the chair’s armrest as he tried to cross his arms over his chest. This chair was Bitty’s, specifically one he had custom ordered especially for long hours editing his Youtube videos and blogs. Jack felt awkward and oafish in it, and he was embarrassed that it was contributing to his overall bad mood. “That he was gay? Yes. Or at least, I mean I assumed that he wasn’t  _ just  _ into me -.”   
  
“Oh come on. Have some more self-awareness, brah. If there was someone who others might be exclusively attracted to, I think you’d be the best candidate. You are pretty beautiful, my dude.” Shitty laughed. “But continue.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Okay, so yeah, I knew he was attracted to guys, but I had no idea that he was going to come out today. We don’t really talk anymore. Plus, he doesn’t need to run his plans by me. We haven’t been together in years.” 

Shitty took another long, pondering sip of his iced coffee. The ice rattled at the bottom of the cup, and Jack winced. He absolutely hated the sound. It was so grating, and he, for some reason, felt anxiety rising in his chest. The face that Shitty was making was his lawyer face, the kind of face he made when he was going to make a pointed argument.    
  
“You know, Jacky boy,” said Shitty, in between sips, “that was the first time that you ever admitted, in the whole time that I have known you, that you and Kent had a relationship. Every other time that we have talked about this, you said it was just physical.”    
  
The wave of anxiety crashed over Jack, and he felt his face redden. “That’s not true. I didn’t say that we were in a relationship.”    
  
“Larissa,” Shitty turned over his shoulder to talk to his partner. Jack could see the beginning of a peeling sunburn on Shitty’s back. Probably too much time out by the lake. He almost absentmindedly noted how strange it was to hear Shitty call Lardo by her first name. “Did Jack not just say that he and Kent Parson were together?”   
  
“I told you, I am not getting involved, Shitty.”

  
Jack smiled to himself. Lardo did always have his back, and although he’d never tell anyone, she was probably one of his favorite members of his college team. 

“Listen,” he started again when Shitty had turned back to the camera. “We were just friends, and it sometimes got intimate.”

“Okay, first things first, you sound like a fucking grandpa when you say the word ‘intimate.’ It’s weird. Next, being friends who sometimes fuck kind of sounds exactly what a relationship is.” 

Shitty looked earnest on Jack’s screen, and Jack felt his anxiety creeping up into another wave. “I don’t care, either way, my dude. I’d love you regardless. If it was just fucking, it’s whatever. Get it, I guess. If it was a relationship, that’s also whatever. Let’s be real. There are way worse people you could have dated in the world, like Donald Trump or Charles Manson or something.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “You are being ridiculous.”    
  
Shitty smiled and shrugged. “Yeah, that’s why you keep me around though. I think you just need to be fucking honest with yourself, bro. No one is going to get any closure if you just aren’t being real about what happened.” 

“Tabarnak,” Jack swore. Anger and anxiety were rising in his chest. It felt like his lungs were being squeezed or if he had just completed a full conditioning set. He didn’t mean to get that angry, and embarrassment hit him like another disorienting wave. “Nobody is looking for any closure. It’s already over. I’m engaged.”   
  
“I know you’re engaged. It’s great. You found the best partner you could, and I cannot wait to be your Best Man. But-” Shitty again looked earnestly at the camera, and for a minute it felt like they were back in their shared house at Samwell. Jack sighed deeply. “Listen, man. If it was truly over, then why did you watch that clip like four times and send it to me? What was that supposed to accomplish? I am not saying that you need to give me an actual answer, but I just want you to think about it.” 

-

Jack’s therapist was a student at Brown, in the midst of finishing a post-doctorate program. She was nice, with brown skin and hair that reminded him of the team manager from Bitty’s senior year that he had met a few times. Diana. Denise. Something like that. His therapist, though, was currently staring at him with the most confused look on her face as she furiously took down some session notes.

Technically, Jack had one of the best insurance plans that money could buy. He probably could have had one of the best local therapists in the area. But as someone who has spent most of his life working with the best money could buy, Jack almost liked the idea of being with someone less intense. His therapist was closer in age to him, and he felt like there was less pressure to have a “good” session. He wasn’t wasting a small fortune, and he wasn’t too particularly worried that his mother would ruin his therapist’s career over one bad week. 

Looking back, those fears were probably just stories his extreme teenage anxiety told him. His family had more than enough money to pay for his treatment without it being a financial burden. He was lucky in that way and extremely grateful. He was also sure that his mother was not going to ruin people’s careers over one therapist's appointment. But the stories still felt almost real nearly a decade later. 

“So, Jack,” she began, “I just want to reflect back to you what you just shared with me. Just so I can clarify, and I have this correct before we begin to unpack this.”   
  
“You’re upset with someone that you used to date or be involved with when you were a teenager because he just came out publicly. So you’re feeling very anxious because this has both personal and professional implications for you. On a professional level, you feel a pressure to confirm or at least comment on the relationship you had as a teen. On a personal level, you feel like you need to admit to others what you always knew for yourself - that your relationship with Keith -.”

“Kent.”

  
“With Kent - I’m sorry - Kent is more impactful and more serious than you originally let on.”

Jack rubbed his palms on his jeans. He was surprised when he realized that they were sweaty. It felt strangely scummy, and he made a mental note to throw them in with the pile he had for dry cleaning when he got back to his apartment. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. When he was younger, he imagined therapy would have eventually gotten easier. 

He was incorrect.   
  
“Yes, that would be accurate, I guess.” Jack coughed drily, still trying to clear his throat. He reached down for the reusable water bottle that he always brought to sessions to find only that it was empty. He scowled. His therapist wrote that down too. “I mean, I thought I was finally getting my life back on track. Or I guess on track for the first time. I was doing what I have always wanted to do. I have a college degree. I am engaged to the love of my life. I’m a Stanley Cup Champion. I’m almost thirty. And now it feels like Kent, again, just showed up to mess up my life again.”

His therapist nodded empathetically. Her gold earring caught the light that peered in through the window in her office. For a second, they blinded Jack. 

“Jack,” she said softly. She only spoke quietly when she had something important to say. “I am going to push back on this thought pattern you’re sharing. Have you considered that Kent may have made a decision regardless of your personal needs and preferences?”   
  
Jack instinctually grabbed for his water bottle again. Embarrassed that he found it empty again, he threw it on the couch next to him and hoped it looked like he had done that intentionally. His mouth was still dry. “I don’t follow what you’re saying.”   
  
“Well, let’s go back to one of our first sessions. You shared that you had recently come out publicly, and that was increasing your anxiety. That’s why you started to come and see me. When you came out, were you thinking about Kent?” She put her notebook on the floor next to her and peered into Jack’s face. Instinctually, he looked out the window. The sun was reflected in the office windows next door. It would have made for a beautiful photo. 

“No,” he admitted, still looking out the window. He absentmindedly scratched his palms. He was surprised that he was soon able to feel half-moon divots where his nails had been. The sensation was grounding. “I was thinking about how excited I was to win the Cup. I was thinking about how much I loved Bitty. I was thinking about how much I wanted my parents to tell me they were proud of me.”

“So,” his therapist continued. “You didn’t come out in order to intentionally out Kent?”

“No, of course not!” He exclaimed. Jack looked at her directly. An all too familiar these days cocktail of anger and anxiety bubbled up in his chest.

“Didn’t come out to ruin his career?”   
  
“No.”

“Didn’t come out to ruin his relationship, if he had one?”   
  
“No,” Jack exhaled. Anger tinged his voice. “I don’t understand why you’re asking me these questions. I didn’t do it because I wanted to hurt Kent. I just wanted to live my life.”   
  
His therapist smiled broadly, and she picked up her notebook. She furiously wrote down something before she looked up at him again.   
  
“If you didn’t come out to ruin Kent’s life, perhaps maybe he didn’t come out to ruin yours.” Her voice was soft and warm. “Maybe Kent had his own reasons for coming out that have nothing to do with you, Jack. Does that seem plausible?” 

-

Bitty wrapped his arms around Jack’s shoulders, and he propped his head upon the crown of Jack’s head. He smelled like freshly brewed coffee. That combined with the few hand stretches that Bitty was doing on the very edge of Jack’s field of vision clearly meant that he had spent most of the day editing or writing emails.    
  
It was rewarding to watch Bitty build his own career. He had worked so hard, and he was so passionate. And for the first time in his life, he was in a relationship where he felt that Bitty’s successes were just as joyful and wonderful as his own. There was no sense of jealousy, no subconscious need to compete. The free pie was just an added bonus.   
  
“Honey, who was that on the phone?” Bitty asked quietly. His Southern drawl was always more pronounced when he was tired. Jack could feel Bitty’s chin drive into the top of his head as he spoke. It didn’t hurt, and he didn’t mind. 

Instinctually, he replied: “Mon papa.”

He and his father spoke almost exclusively in French to one another when they were alone. As a child, it felt special like something just the two of them shared. But now, it just seemed normal, the continued way they connected to one another. They liked hockey. They spoke French. They went golfing. They were sure to tell each other that they loved each other every day, a new habit that was built after Jack returned home from hospitalization all of those years ago. Jack didn’t realize it at the time, but his father had always been creating rituals and touchstones to get closer to his son. 

  
“My dad,” he quickly corrected himself. Jack quickly clicked off his cell phone and watched the screen grow black. In the black reflection, he could see Bitty playfully scowling.    
  
“Oh come, honey. I wasn’t _ that _ bad at French. I knew how to say dad.” Bitty slowly unraveled himself from around Jack. He wandered across the kitchen to take a seat at their island, where he had left his iPad sitting. He quickly booted it up, and he began tapping away through what Jack assumed was his emails.    
  
Soon Jack heard the robotic and jolting voice of Google Translate ringing across their apartment. “Je suis fantastique à parler français.” 

“Mmm-hmm.” Jack smiled absentmindedly. He drummed his fingers across his phone screen. A picture of him and Bitty at Bitty’s college graduation popped up on the screen to stare back on him. It struck him how much he looked like his father in this picture. It was weird. He blinked aggressively.   
  
“Only because I had a great tutor,” Bitty offered him a dazzling smile from his perch on his stool. “Sweetie, you look angry.”   
  
Jack shrugged. His fingers sped up, and the sound of his methodical taps filled up the empty space while he tried to find the words to speak. He wasn’t angry, per say. Just confused. He and Bob, at the very end of their call, spoke about the fact that Kent had come out. How could they have not talked about it? Everyone was talking about it. His friends from college, his teammates, the media - and not just small-time hockey blogs. People were writing about it on CNN and in the Los Angeles Times and on Ici Radio-Canada Télé. And now, of course, his family had brought it up. 

Bob said he supported Jack in whatever he wanted to do. If he wanted to say something to Kent, that was okay. If he never wanted to speak to him ever again, that was also okay. There was no pressure. The decision was completely up to him.    
  
That was Jack’s problem.

“Do you think I should say something to Kent?” He asked Bitty when he finally spoke. The words hung heavily in the air. There was a pause while Bitty thought, and Jack found himself fiddling in the silence.    
  
“This again.” Bitty sighed. Jack knew that he hadn’t said anything about Kent before, at least not at home. Kent, however, had dominated their group text with their friends from Samwell. It dominated the news. It even kept popping up in the comments of Bitty’s videos. For the first time, he imagined that this weighed on Bitty too. It must be difficult to hear everyone talk about your partner’s ex all of the time. The guilt and empathy sliced Jack like a knife. “Would it make you feel better?”   
  
“I don’t know, maybe.” Jack waved his hand noncommittally and slid his phone into his pocket. He crossed their kitchen, and it was suddenly his turn to wrap himself around Bitty. The smell of coffee had faded a bit, and Jack took a deep breath of the Bitty’s scent of Bitty’s cologne. It was soothing. “Maybe not. But I can’t get it out of my head that I should.”   
  
“Then maybe that’s a sign that you should. My mama always said you need to do what sits right with your spirit.”   
  
Of course, Suzanne had. The more Jack got to know Bitty’s family the more delightful Southern they turned out to be. He appreciated their commitment to family, their strange idioms that he didn’t really understand, their love of Bitty. He also appreciated all of the wonderful ways they subverted his expectations too.    
  
Jack carefully cupped Bitty’s chin. He turned his face softly towards him and gave him a gentle but unceasing kiss. He could feel Bitty’s face getting flushed against the palm of his hand.    
  
“What was that for?” Bitty asked when they were finished. His face was still flushed a blotchy pink, and his lips were shiny. The light was catching his half-closed eyes that made his brown light up with rich tones and golds. He looked incredible.    
  
“Sat right with my spirit.”    
  
Bitty laughed as his hands began to wander down the length of Jack’s torso. Between pecks that dotted Jack’s face, he giggled - “You’re lucky I love you, Jack Zimmermann. Otherwise, I think I would be obligated to tell the world how much of a dork that you are.”

-

Kent’s publicist picked up the phone. She seemed extremely chipper for what Jack assumed was close to 8 AM in the morning in Las Vegas.    
  
“Hi, you’ve reached Spector and Flowers Public Relations Firm. This is Ginger speaking. How may I help you?” Her voice was clear and high. She sounded young like she was much closer to Bitty or Chowder’s age rather than his own. The thought that he easily could have gone to college with her passed through his mind. It felt strange.   
  
“Uh, hello. My name is Jack Zimmermann. I am a player with the Providence Falconers. I was looking to get a hold of Kent Parson, um, if that was possible at all.” Jack winced over how nervous he sounded. He had always hated talking on the phone to strangers.    
  
If Ginger noticed that he sounded nervous, she didn’t seem to care much. Jack was able to hear some distant clicking and typing as she hummed.    
  
“Of course, Mr. Zimmermann. It looks like Mr. Parson just currently wrapped up a meeting with one of our staff members, and he should be available. If he is willing to take your call, I’ll just patch you through to his cell. If he’s unavailable at the moment, I’ll hop back on and we can set up another appointment. Does that sound good?” Ginger’s voice is even and calm. Jack wonders if she was ever a hockey fan or if this was just where life took her after college - representing probably one of the most well-known hockey players on earth. In reference to his own life, he knew that sometimes life just put you where you happened to end up. But he also wanted to know if she knew anything about the history between Jack and Kent, if she wanted to know more.    
  
It was a selfish and self-involved desire, but he was still curious.    
  
“Euh,” his very Quebec roots were very obviously showing. It was a mental effort to remind himself to speak in English. His bilingualism was almost always effortless. Today truly emphasized the almost. “Yes, that would be fine.”   
  
“Great!” Ginger exclaimed with polite enthusiasm. “Please hold.”

Jack glanced around himself. Over the dash of his truck was the dark blue expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. He wasn’t sure why he had chosen to come out to the beach, especially in the tail end of winter. He could have easily taken the call in his bedroom back in his apartment. Bitty was in New York for the weekend, meeting with his publisher. No one would have been around to hover on the edge of his conversation. But it just didn’t feel right to bring that into the home that he had Bitty shared.    
  
Eventually, the hold tone, a stereotypical but pleasant string tune, faded into a soft buzzing and static. Finally, a voice spoke.   
  
“Hello?”   
  
Jack held his breath. Kent sounded exactly like he did when he was eighteen. It felt like a radically strange blast from the past. Jack didn’t expect it to knock him as off guard as it did.   
  
“Kenny. Kent.” Jack quickly corrected himself. “It’s me. It’s Jack.”   
  
“Yeah, I uh already knew that. Ginger let me know that it was you that was calling. Why did you call my publicist?”   
  
Jack shrugged. He felt self-conscious when he realized what he was doing. It was obvious to him that Kent couldn’t see what he was doing, but it felt like a natural response. “I didn’t have your number. I deleted it years ago.”   
  
“Well, yeah, that checks out. That definitely makes sense. What do you want?” The words sounded harsh, but there wasn’t any malice in Kent’s voice. If anything, he sounded like he was patiently talking to a fan who wouldn’t leave the photo line or a cashier who told him that his credit card had been declined.    
  


Jack paused for a moment. What did he want? 

  
Kent sighed loudly over the line. He sounded tired. “If you’re calling to ask me if I was ever going to talk about us, the answer is no, Jack. You don’t have to wor-.”   
  
“No, no, no!” The words felt heavy in his mouth. “I just wanted to -I wanted to congratulate you, I guess. Coming out isn’t easy, and you had a lot more at stake than I did. And I guess I wanted to say that this was exciting, in a way. We’re living out what we said we were always going to do when we were kids. We wanted to be out, and we wanted to be Stanley Cup champions. I guess we did it.”   
  
“Woo. Go, team.” Kent chuckled, and Jack could hear a sense of defeat in his voice. “This wasn’t exactly what we had planned when we were younger.”    
  
No, it wasn’t. They had always planned to be together when they came out. They had planned, at least at some point in their career, to win the cup together. The future that they were living right now was radically different from what they planned when they were sixteen. For Jack, in some ways, it was better, and in some ways, it was worse. He imagined that Kent would say the same thing.    
  
Jack wouldn’t have changed it for the world, though. Of that, he wasn’t sure if Kent would stay the same.    
  
“Best laid plans and all of that,” Jack’s voice trailed off. He found himself at a loss for words. 

“Well,” Kent exhaled. “If you really just called to congratulate me, I appreciate it. And I look forward to all of the corny ‘You Can Play’ photoshoots that our PR teams inevitably are going to force us to do. If I had to take rainbow-themed photos with someone, I guess I’m glad that it’s you.”

The silent line buzzed as Jack and Kent sat in silence. In the distance, waves crashed against the rocks on the shore. 

“Well, that wasn’t really everything. I called because I wanted to apologize.” Jack blew air through the front of his teeth. “I did and said some things to you that ranged from generally really shitty to genuinely cruel. I could make a lot of excuses about being sick or being confused, but for the most part, I was an adult. I had choices. I just made bad ones. And I am sorry if that’s worth anything.”

There was a softness from Kent that Jack wasn’t expecting. “It is. It’s worth a lot, actually, and I appreciate it. And I’m sorry too. I wasn’t always a fucking prize to be around, and you were on the receiving end of a lot of that. I could be just as shitty and just as cruel, if not shitty and crueler. That wasn’t fair either.”   
  
“And I’ll tell you what I told Bittle. I am genuinely happy for you. I hope everything works out. I hope we can all just finally move on and live our lives the way that we want to live them. We deserve to be happy. Live out our happily ever after or whatever.”   
  
“Happily ever after doesn't exist, Kent.” 

Kent chuckled darkly. “Well, Jesus, Jack, your wedding is just going to be a barrel of fun then. That’ll really get your guests going.”   
  
Jack winced. He didn’t mean it like that. He was happy, and he did think in some way Kent was too. 

  
“I just mean,” said Jack earnestly. “What I’ve learned from my therapist that there is no such thing as perfect. And that’s okay if everything isn’t perfect or like a storybook. Relationships and stuff are hard work. Bad shit happens. Life goes on though, and that’s what’s good.”

“You know, for someone who has the emotional range of a teaspoon, that was pretty profound.” There was the sound of a car door opening and the rustle of someone climbing. Jack wondered where Kent was going. 

“Was that a Harry Potter reference?” Jack stared out at the Atlantic Ocean. He suddenly had a strange desire to go sit down by the beach, put his toes in the water. He decided against it.    
  
“It was.” Kent laughed. It was a nice sound. Jack was pleased with himself that he had an opportunity to hear it again. “I guess college really expanded your pop culture references.”   
  
“It really didn’t,” confessed Jack with a self-deprecating laugh. There was a length of silence at the end of the line. There was buzzing and the sound of seagulls and the whipping wind of what Jack assumed was the Nevada desert. The sound was empty and lonely.   
  
“Well, I have to go,” Kent said. Jack didn’t expect him to speak with such softness. If they had been there together, Jack might have been tempted to hug him. “I appreciated this though. It was nice to talk to you.”

  
“Yeah, me too. And it was nice. Stay in touch, Kenny.”   
  
“Yup.” And the line went dead. 

  
  


-   
  


Thousands of miles away, Kent Parson turned up the dial on his radio. He nodded along with the bass of one of the new rap songs that one of the rookies had sent him. The sun felt warm on his cheeks.

  
For the first time, it finally felt like he could take a deep breath.   


**Author's Note:**

> dark!nogzi probably won't ever give us a kent happy ending. but that is okay! i am beyond grateful for this comic, this community, and these characters that have captured my imagination for the past few years.
> 
> the title comes from the song "we'll all be free" by william matthews, an openly gay christian musician. i thought it was extremely fitting, and i highly recommend you give it a listen


End file.
